Ya'aburnee
by K Hanna Korossy
Summary: Sacrifice tag: The angels are falling, Sam's failing, and Dean is just trying to keep it all together.


**Ya'aburnee**  
K Hanna Korossy

 _Ya'aburnee_ (Arabic) – "You bury me [so I don't have to be the one burying you]"

The angels were falling, Cas probably among them. Sam was failing. And Dean was in denial. It was that, or shut down completely.

There was a hospital about thirty minutes away; Dean had checked even before the Trial began. Normally he'd cut that in half, but the Impala was sliding all over the place in the mud and rain-slicked grass because of course they'd had to pick the most out-of-the-way church anywhere for the last Trial. It didn't help that Dean was driving one-handed, his other hand keeping his brother from sliding all over the place, too.

 _Sam'll be okay, Cas'll be okay, screw the Trials, screw Crowley, screw the_ world _. Sam'll be okay, Cas'll—_

Sam moaned again, and Dean's grip tightened, both on the steering wheel and on one bony shoulder.

"Okay, okay, so…tell me what happened with Crowley."

Sam didn't answer, and Dean's eyes flicked between the questionable road and his even more questionable brother. Sweat-matted hair framed a gray, strained face that was half-buried in his knees. The guy was curled up in a ball, back against the door, legs folded tight against his chest. The fetal position alone told Dean how badly he was hurting.

"Sam? Come on, man, talk to me. What happened with Crowley?"

Sam gave a shuddering breath, the kind that wasn't always followed by a second breath. But, thank God, he actually unbent a little, licking cracked lips and blinking heavily at Dean. He had a suspicion Sam's vision was as screwed up as the rest of him, and his hand moved down to squeeze Sam's knee instead.

"You didn't finish the Trial…" Dean prompted.

"Uh…yeah." Sam's voice sounded like he'd been screaming. For hours. "Stopped b'fore the last dose."

"Okay," Dean said with patience he didn't remotely feel. "How was Crowley?"

"Uh…" Sam swallowed hard. Dean swore to himself he'd dig out a water bottle as soon as they hit paved road. "He was…feelin' it. Talking 'bout…wan'ing to be—" A harsh cough; Dean didn't look over to see if it produced blood. "—be loved."

That took a second to sink through the dense panic of his thoughts. "What? Seriously?"

"Took a…bite outta me…first." Sam snorted something that might've been a laugh, but it was too breathless to be anything other than frightening. He brushed vaguely at his arm, a bandage Dean only now noticed, and it was another sign of how desperate things were that he couldn't even worry about a demon sinking _teeth_ into his brother.

"Nice." He swerved to miss a bush. "I'll be sure t'thank him with some holy water next time I see him."

Sam had slipped with the car, and Dean moved his grip up to his brother's arm to keep him on the seat. The skin burned through two layers of clothing. He was willing to bet Sam's heart was going faster than Baby, but wasn't about to check. He already knew this was way beyond him and side-of-the-road doctoring. He just ground the gas pedal down into the floor.

"Uh," he tried to pull a coherent thought from the panicked crowd in his mind. "What happened with the window?" Sam's eyes were closed. "Sam!"

Sam flinched, eyes snapping open. "Wha—?"

"The window," Dean said firmly. "Who broke the window?"

"Oh." Sam sighed, coughed again. "Abaddon. Wi' me."

Dean reared back at that—Abaddon? Crap, he really should have stayed there with Sam. Instead, he'd left his hurting brother to do a dangerous ritual in order to help Cas with something that had obviously backfired spectacularly. Good thing he had his priorities straight.

Well, he did now. "What happened to Abaddon?" he asked, not because he cared but because he needed as many tethers as possible to keep Sam there.

"Uh…" Sam was clearly struggling harder to keep talking. "Holy oil. Burned…burned her…'suit."

"That's my boy," Dean said warmly. And, thank God, there was the road. He took the turn hard, and strained equally hard to keep Sam from skating off the seat.

"Think 'm…gonna be sick," Sam muttered, going another shade paler.

"No you're not," Dean soothed. "No, you're not. Just breathe slow and easy." He demonstrated with exaggerated breaths, trying hard to keep his face from crumpling when he heard Sam's wheezing, wet echo. "Stay with me, Sammy."

"'ean…" It was more a groan than a word.

"I'm here." Screw the water; he wasn't letting go either of the wheel or of Sam. "I'm right here."

"S'okay…to lemme go…y'know? Not like…P-Purgatory."

He looked up sharply at that, to see Sam staring at him with bloodshot intensity. "Oh, no. No way are we having this conversation now, dude."

"'ean." God, the tug on his sleeve was so _weak._ "Lisssen."

"Sammy…" He paused to rub his eyes clear. _"No._ You just told me back there you were choosing me, right? Well, then…choose _me,_ not this 'dying nobly' crap. You got me, Sam? I'm not acceptin' anything else."

Sam, the freak, actually managed a shaky smile. "…my big brother…" He was whispering now, his fingers sliding off Dean's arm after failing to find purchase. "…die for you…" His eyes fluttered.

"Sam?"

Sam's head lolled forward against legs that finally loosened from their spastic curl.

"Sam!"

Dean screeched to a halt, feeling frantically for pulse, breath. Both present, both erratic. Much like his own.

"Sammy," he breathed, smoothing the shaggy hair back, cradling the limp face. "You choose me, you hear me? I'm gonna take care of you, but you hang on for me, okay?" His voice wavered despite the teeth buried in his lip. "Bitch."

No _Jerk_ followed. No response at all.

"Okay," Dean murmured. He pulled the unresisting body down, rearranging lax limbs so Sam was more-or-less reclining on the seat, head pillowed on Dean's leg where he could keep two fingers on Sam's pulse. "Okay. I'm gonna take that as a yes. So you just rest here and…keep breathing."

He threw the car into Drive again and spun the tires for a second before they shot down the road. Toward people who could fix Sam. Toward some place where falling angels didn't streak the sky, and Dean could take a minute to think and regroup, and he would finally, really get his brother back. Toward that freakin' light at the end of Sam's tunnel to which he promised, he _promised_ he'd take Dean.

Because, Dean thought as he pulled his unconscious brother a little closer, he knew Sam would die for him. Always had.

But the only thing he'd ever really wanted was his little brother to _live_ for him.

 **The End**


End file.
